Monthly Archives: July 2015

I’ll never forget the moment. It changed forever the way I looked at art. Madrid, May 2011. The square, Puerta del Sol, was filling with makeshift tents as “Los Indignados” occupied the centre of Madrid. Coming in on the metro from my college accommodation with a Spanish family, I got off one stop early each day to walk through the square, deliver donations of water, milk or juice to the well-organised communal kitchen area. I tried to understand the posters, the protests, and the petitions, before heading to my morning classes at the language school a couple of blocks away. Continue reading →

Sometimes you just need fruit. It was the big food distribution day at Los Ángeles Malagueños de la Noche, and the end of lunch service until September. The people in the queue had already queued for breakfast and queued to get a numbered ticket for the groceries, and it was way too hot to be standing in a queue. Even the volunteers were wilting in the heat, and we knew it was nothing like as bad for us as it was for the people in the queue. Continue reading →

“All English people are like lords and ladies, no?” She wasn’t joking. Perhaps she’s been lucky in the English people she has met, but she is convinced that all of us live in castles and have butlers. She may have been watching the wrong TV programmes. Continue reading →